


How It Pours

by looneymoony



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/F, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, there are other characters but theyre not really a big part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looneymoony/pseuds/looneymoony
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be raining, but it is.AKA Pacifica has a hard time with a lot of things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Written: November 13, 2016  
> Tumblr Source: http://mcguckt.tumblr.com/post/153137698226/how-it-pours  
> i havent posted anything in MONTHS im SORRY this was a request from like august and i never finished it but i have now so here it is. it's set in the summer after weirdmageddon and theyre 13. i have never written these two before so it's kinda choppy and weird but i hope you like it!!!  
> p.s. the pines are staying at mcgucket's place in this because the mystery shack is kinda crowded with soos and his family there  
> EDIT: March 22, 2017 - I noticed a couple typos and fixed some wording. Nothing big at all.

It was a dark and stormy night, because it always is. The weathermen on public access television had predicted clear skies, so Pacifica sat tentatively in the back seat of her father's Cadillac, making a mental note to convince her parents that proper cable was a worthwhile investment. She was sure her mother could live without her expensive weekly crushed pearl facial. As she cursed her rotten luck and the perfect start to what she hoped would not be a disaster of a night, her eyes tracked the droplets running down the window, illuminated by the overhead lights. They collided with one another and joined together, making a complex pattern of rivulets impossible to see but inexplicably gripping. The raindrops gliding in their perpetual painting paired with the hum of the engine captivated her, ringing in her ears, like she was in a trance.

"Ahem."

Her chauffeur - Gerard, she corrected herself - was looking at her expectantly in the rear view mirror. "Are you going to go out, or would you like me to turn off the car?"

Pacifica swallowed. "I'll just be another minute."

She turned back to the window, this time looking beyond the water to her destination.

She didn't know what to call it. Seeing it before her, she was compelled to say "home", but that was a title she no longer had the privilege to use. A more accurate name would be "McGucket Manor", but the wrought iron gates still bore the large "N" from her surname. No - although the property had switched hands, her family could never erase the impact they had left.

Her fists clenched around her clutch purse. _The impact._ The Great Flood. An axe dragging across the floor. The curse. Fire. The ringing of a bell. Silence. _Her_ silence. _Her_ wrongdoings. Her words, her disgracefulness, her pride, her need to win, to win, to prove, to curse, to win, to win -

She opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.

Moving quickly, she made her way through the courtyard, taking care to avoid puddles and dangerous thoughts, the kind that could further jeopardize the evening she had planned. It was almost frightening how easy it would be to sigh and feel everything slip away: fears, emotions, humanity, the world. This was a tactic she'd learned at a young age and, though tempting, one she didn't want to use anymore, because it wasn't wrong to feel bad. Difficult to believe, but it was something Mabel had told her, and if she couldn't trust what the Pines said on top of her parents, then -

A sigh.

It was supposed to be a happy night, not a Pacifica-feels-bad-about-everything-in-the-world-again night.

She rang the doorbell.

Almost instantly, a loud banging noise came in reply. She heard multiple people shouting, one of which was almost certainly Mabel, and what sounded like the bleating of a goat. Instinctively, her stomach churned at the thought of the beast chewing on the furniture and tracking filth through the house and all over the carpet. She clenched her teeth and reminded herself that it wasn't her home anymore and therefore it was none of her business what creatures were granted admittance.

"HOWDY!" yelled a voice.

Pacifica shrieked and almost fell over.

"If you're hearin' this recording, it's because I can't get to the door for one reason or another," said who else but McGucket - there was no mistaking the accent. After catching her breath, Pacifica spotted a small speaker that had been installed under the doorbell where the voice was coming from. Perhaps the manor had changed more than she'd realized. "Don't worry, I'll be there soon! I'm just a bit preoccupied. Probably got lost again. That being said, if you're tryin' to sell me somethin', you can just turn around and leave right now, because I'm not interested. If you're from the IRS, stick around! I've got this fantastic new laser gun I've been meaning to test out -"

Suddenly, the door burst open.

"HELLO!"

This time Pacifica _did_ fall over, only to be caught by the wrist at the last second. "Whoa-oh, careful, Pacifica!"

Mabel (because of course it was Mabel) pulled her up. She hoped she couldn't tell that she was blushing as she brushed herself off. "I swear, if anything else jumps out at me tonight, I'm going to lose my mind."

Mabel laughed nervously and closed the door behind her, deciding that Pacifica didn't need to see her family attempting to turn off the fire sprinklers and the group of beavers gnawing at the baseboard inside. "Yeah, well, no more surprises! I promise!"

McGucket's recording was still rambling on about some sort of legal disclaimer. Mabel noticed and gave it a punch. "It's supposed to turn off when you open the door, but sometimes it needs a bit of help," she explained.

Pacifica smirked. "He's really made the place his own, huh?"

"Who, McGucket? Oh, yeah! He's made tons of changes - at least, since I was here last year for the Northwest Fest," her smile faltered. "Don't you... haven't you seen any of them? Do you just not come back, or...?"

Pacifica shook her head. "There's not really any reason to. McGucket's invited me over a couple times, but my parents don't let me go. They say they're worried I'll catch some 'hillbilly disease', but I know they're just embarrassed. They don't want me hanging out with -"

"HEY, MABEL!"

Pacifica had to force herself not to scream.

Mabel noticed her reaction and patted her on the back. "This'll be just one second, I swear. Then we can go," she opened up a bright red ladybug umbrella and, grabbing Pacifica's hand (which she flinched at but didn't object to), ran backward out into the rain. "WHAT?" she called up in the direction of the new voice.

Pacifica looked up and saw Mabel's Great Uncle Stan leaning out a window high above them, holding a newspaper over his head. He waved a purple backpack and yelled "YOU LEFT YOUR BAG UP HERE!"

She tried not to look disappointed when Mabel let go of her hand to cup it around her mouth. "JUST THROW IT DOWN!"

Stan pulled back before tossing it down with a grunt.

He missed and hit Pacifica instead, who was knocked back onto the ground.

"SORRY!" he shouted.

"Oh my gosh, Pacifica! Are you okay?" Mabel helped her up again, and for a moment Pacifica wondered how many more times she'd be on the ground that night before she cried out as she realized that she was oozing with mud.

"My dress!"

Mabel grimaced as she tried to wipe some of it away. "It'll be fine, don't worry! I have some spare clothes in my bag. You can just put those on!"

Pacifica started to hyperventilate. "This is imported satin!"

"Really? Yeesh. Now I feel underdressed."

Pacifica's head was swimming. _My parents are going to kill me. If I come home with this dress ruined, there’s no way they’ll let me do anything ever again. It was hard enough to convince them to let me out on a_ date _with a -_

“Pacifica, hey!”

A gentle touch, a tiny hand against her cheek, sliding down to her chin to lift it up. A pair of deep brown eyes, dark in the night and the rain, still glowing. “Look, it’s gonna be okay!”

Her heart was beating a mile a minute. _Think, Pacifica, think,_ she told herself. There had to be some way to fix it, to keep herself out of trouble, to save the night, but she couldn't focus, she was _covered_ in _mud_ and she felt like she was doing to die.

"Here, why don't we get you inside?"

That cinched it. There was no going back. She'd failed.

She began to cry.

The next few minutes were a tear-stained blur for Pacifica. She remembered arms around her. She remembered Stan rushing toward them and then being ushered indoors. She remembered lots of people talking to each other and sometimes to her, but their voices were distant and distorted, like they were underwater, and whenever they asked her a question she couldn't understand and she just kept crying. She remembered Dipper was there with a towel, and Stan said something about the Cadillac and went back outside.

And then she blinked, and it was like waking up from some sort of fever dream. A warm blanket was swaddled around her, and she was sitting on a couch. She closed her eyes, listening and breathing slowly. She could hear rain beating down on the walls of the house, wind howling outside, and the distant chatter of conversation, though she couldn't make out what they were saying even if she tried. She could tell without looking that she was no longer wearing her dress and was curious to see what had replaced it, but not feeling up to look at her full surroundings just yet, she pulled the blanket around her head, effectively blinding her to the rest of the room. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes to peek down at her new outfit.

Pink flannel pajamas. A bit too big for her. Fringed with pale blue lace. _Mabel's,_ she thought.

The blanket felt warm around her head. Another breath. She was ready.

Taking in the room before her, she could see that she was in what had been her family's parlor, sectioned off from the hallway by a dark blue curtain, though some changes had been made. The walls had been painted a light green color and the fancy silk chairs had been swapped out for a lazyboy and a well-worn sofa. She was relieved to see that a flatscreen television had taken the place of the silver mirror on the wall, but the floor still had her parents' favorite carpet pattern, and she instinctively lifted her feet. Her head started to pound, she was thinking about _that night_ again, with the blood and the mirrors and the trees all staring at her frozen in horror.

She pulled her legs up and pressed her head between her knees. She wanted someone to come through the curtain, to interrupt her thoughts again, to distract her from her brain, but she had no such luck. She was left to think and think and _think_ and every time she closed her eyes she could see Dipper choking and being turned to wood before her and he would have died! They all would have died! How could she have let that happen? How could she have been so heartless?

 _I saved them. I broke the curse,_ she thought. _It's fine._ She sighed.

_But it's not fine._

This was wrong. The feelings were supposed to go away. She was supposed to feel fine.

_It's not fine._

She collapsed onto her side and she shivered in her potato sack dress. The Mystery Shack's tiny television roared with static, finally settling upon the image of the massive throne. Her parents, trapped. Screaming. Cold. Lifeless. How could she have watched them be taken? Her father's face twisted, his eyes gone, collapsing to the ground, reaching out for her, screams coming from the throat, fire in the sky, Bill cackling in her ears. She was on her feet in an instant, sprinting for the exit, anything to get away from her father -

"WHOA!"

At the last moment she stopped, right before running straight into Mabel, who was wearing a nightshirt and carrying two steaming mugs. She looked over her guest, grinning. "Pacifica! You're awake!"

Pacifica nodded, heaving hard. "Yeah," she managed breathily. She hadn't realized she'd been asleep. _How long was I out?_

Mabel stopped smiling immediately. "Here, take a seat. I made us some tea."

The two sat side by side on the sofa silently. Mabel passed Pacifica her tea, who accepted it gladly, happy to have something in her hands, even if it was scalding hot. She blew on the top a little bit and took tiny sips, studying the constellations painted on the mug.

Inhale. Exhale. Mabel was unusually quiet, pretending not stare at her.

"I know you're upset, Pacifica," she said finally.

She couldn't help but scoff. "What gave it away? Was it my dinner reservation at the fanciest restaurant in the county going to waste? Or was it having to be coddled like an infant by the girl _I_ was supposed to be treating _and_ her family? _OR_ was it the humiliation of falling into a puddle full of mud?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she snapped, twirling on Mabel. Mabel didn't flinch, but she looked unhappy. She looked down at Pacifica's hands, her knuckles were white around the mug.

"You think about last year a lot, don't you?"

Pacifica pursed her lips and looked away, brow furrowed. She couldn't tell if she was angry or sad and she couldn't think. She focused on the loose stitching in the blanket.

"It's okay," said Mabel. "I think about it a lot, too."

"Must be pretty hard to escape the hero treatment," muttered Pacifica.

"Okay, this time you _know_ that's not what I meant."

"Maybe I did! So what?" she dug her nails into the palms of her hands.

"So please don't push me away! I know it's because you still get scared, but guess what? I still get scared, too!"

Pacifica huffed, but paused. She still refused to make eye contact.

When Mabel spoke again, her voice was very low. "Sometimes, when things are going really well for me, I feel like I'm back in _there_."

Pacifica pondered this for a moment and looked up at Mabel. "You mean... the bubble?"

Mabel nodded, staring down into her mug and swishing it around. "I get worried. I wonder if everything was just a dream, and if I'm still trapped there, and I get really dizzy and I can't decide if I want to run or give up," she paused, looking back to Pacifica. "Is that kind of how you feel?"

She glanced at her hands, then back to Mabel with a nod. Mabel frowned and took one of Pacifica's hands, squeezing it gently.

Pacifica sniffed. "I'm so sorry."

Mabel looked confused. "For what?"

Pacifica rubbed at her eyes in a vain attempt to stop tears from coming. "For ruining your night, our... our _date_ , and for snapping at you, and for last year, and being a really big jerk to you, and for being a really big jerk to your friends and your family and your brother and - and _everything,_ just _everything._ I'm sorry for all of it."

And then she was crying. Short breaths and whines and she was looking around for a tissue box. Mabel took the mug from Pacifica's hands and set both of their drinks down on an end table (even in a hysterical state, Pacifica had to resist the urge to reprimand Mabel for not using coasters on hardwood). She pulled out a drawer and produced a couple of cocktail napkins, which Pacifica accepted with a hearty blow. Mabel wrapped Pacifica in her arms and she sank into the embrace. The only sound was her crying.

"How do you feel?"

Pacifica snorted into another napkin and took a deep breath. "Bad," she finally said.

Mabel laughed weakly. "Yeah, me too."

Pacifica could feel Mabel's heartbeat, and though it filled her with an inexplicable tranquility, she also suddenly felt like she was intruding. She pulled back and rubbed her eyes again. "So, now what?"

Mabel, though disappointed by the end of the hug, took a deep breath. "Right. Okay. _So_. Dipper and the other boys are all working on fixing your dress. Normally, I'd be kinda worried leaving them with something so fancy, but I think all together they cancel out each others' uncontrollableness."

Pacifica sighed with relief. She hadn't even been thinking about her dress. Her parents would have killed her if they'd -

"My parents!" she exclaimed.

"Oh! Them! Right!" Mabel seemed to perk up at that. "Don't worry, Grunkle Stan called them and told them that after our totally successful fancy dinner, you wanted to have a sleepover!"

Pacifica's heart stopped. "A _what?!_ "

"A sleepover. You know, like, when you sleep over at someone else's house?" she turned pale. "Don't tell me you've never had a sleepover before."

"What? No!" she shook her head. "Of course I have! That's not the problem!"

"Then what is?"

"It's -" she bit her lip before she said _you._ "- I'm not supposed to - my parents will -"

"I already told you, we talked to your parents! They're fine with it!" she shifted her jaw. "Well, maybe 'fine' isn't the best word, but they know about it and accepted Grunkle Stan's terms and conditions."

"Terms and _what_?"

Mabel was conveniently sipping some tea. She held out Pacifica's mug. "Do you want to go watch a movie?"

Pacifica hesitated. She almost sighed.

She took the mug. "Did you know that this house has a movie theater?"

Mabel's jaw dropped. "No way! We've been watching cable in the den for weeks!"

Pacifica stood with a smile and held out her hand. "Of course you have."

Mabel smiled back and took it.

The two made their way to the den to pick out a movie from the trove of tapes that Dipper had brought with him. Ford popped in and surprised the two with a massive bowl of popcorn, and after assuring him that he'd cooked it properly, Pacifica showed the way to the theater. It was smaller and darker than she remembered, and a bit dusty, but Mabel was so excited that she didn't even care. She picked out the seats while Pacifica went up to the control booth and put the tape in. She sat down next to Mabel just as the credits ended.

It was about thirty minutes into the movie and halfway through the bowl of popcorn when Pacifica stopped and looked at her nails. She'd painted them silver earlier that evening, but they were already beginning to chip.

"Mabel?"

Mabel looked over, mouth full of popcorn. "Wha?"

Pacifica clenched her fist. "Did it ever get better?"

Mabel swallowed. "Uhhh... should we pause the movie, or...?"

Pacifica shook her head. "Never mind, it was a stupid question. Just forget it."

"No, no, it's fine! I just..." she tapped her chin. "It's a tough question, that's all."

"I know, I'm sorry. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Mabel put her hand on Pacifica's shoulder. "I mean... I still have a really hard time. I told you that. But so does the rest of my family. I look at people like my Grunkle Ford, and he's still got it really bad, but he's certainly better off than he was. He's got a home, and a family that cares about him. He's helped me a lot, too. He's taught me all about these fancy meditation techniques for when you get worried or scared..."

Pacifica looked away, but Mabel turned her back with her hand, rubbing her thumb over her cheek. "If you want, I can teach them to you?"

Pacifica wondered if her blush was visible in the flashing lights of the movie. "I think I'd like that."

Mabel bit her lip. "Pacifica, I..."

Pacifica's heart was pounding.

"I love your hair."

Pacifica grinned ear to ear.

She leaned over onto Mabel's shoulder.

In a different part of the manor, Dipper scrubbed down Pacifica's dress in the bathroom sink. Stanford read a pizza recipe from a book. Stanley called one in. McGucket shooed some beavers away from the woodwork.

The rain kept falling. The clock kept ticking. The movie played on.


	2. Deleted Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally published: June 21, 2017  
> Found this sort of first draft/deleted scene of this fic; it's the first scene from Mabel's point of view. I didn't end up including it because it didn't fit in with the mood or perspective but it's still kind of enjoyable so I thought I'd add it. Hope you like it!

"Thanks for helping me with my makeup, Grunkle Stan."

"You're not welcome at all. Now, quit your fidgeting or I'll poke your eye out."

Mabel snapped her mouth shut, but continued to kick her legs back and forth as she sat perched on the bathroom counter. An array of cosmetics were spread out beside her. With the delicacy of a painter, Stan brushed her lashes with the mascara wand. 

Dipper picked up one of the primers. "How do you know so much about makeup?"

Stan shrugged. "I don't. It's just like... some kind of fancy face paint."

Mabel smiled. "But you didn't _have_ to help me."

"Are you kidding? I'm doing myself a favor by intervening. If you went out looking like a wolverine again on your first date, I'd probably have a heart attack."

"So you admit you care about the date going well," taunted Dipper.

If anyone had pointed it out, Stan would have said that his cheeks only looked red because of the harsh white lights. "Don't you have some nerd thing you're supposed to be doing with Ford? Y'know, _somewhere else_?"

Dipper fiddled with a tube of lipstick. "He's still setting up the dungeon. Told me it was going to be 'a surprise.'"

Stan rolled his eyes. "He's probably just going to throw another Demogorgon at you."

Dipper snickered. "How do you even know what those are called?"

"Oh, come on. You think I'm deaf? I swear, every night all I hear is 'Oh no, it's the Demogorgon! Roll for fire wand!'" he put down the mascara and inspected a sparkly pink eye shadow. "Do you think adding this would be too much?"

Mabel raised her hand.

Stan stepped back and furrowed his brow. "Uh, what? What are you doing?"

"Mabel, it's okay, you can talk. You're not in school, you don't have to raise your hand," said Dipper.

Mabel sat up straight. "Well, first off, I _know_ Grunkle Stan knows a lot about makeup because he always reads about it in the magazines at the hair salon and I see him when he swipes samples from the makeup store. Secondly, I know Grunkle Ford is purposefully taking his time setting up this dungeon because he's hoping Mr. McGucket will see him and be interested because he's too embarrassed to ask him to play outright. Also, I'm pretty sure it's fire _ball_ , not fire _wand_ , but I'd have to look at Dipper's statistic sheets again. And finally, I'm pretty sure I just heard Pacifica pull up out front, so if my makeover is finished...?"

Stan shook his head and laughed. "All done, kid."

Mabel stood on her tip-toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for all your help, Grunkle Stan."

She turned to her brother, who couldn't keep himself from grinning. "First partner of the summer."

Mabel gave him a bit of a shove. "First and _only_ , if all goes according to plan!"

"Plan? Alright, but I'm holding you to your word."

Mabel stuck her tongue out at him. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Mabel perked up immediately. "That's her!" She bolted out of the bathroom and headed for the main hall.

Stan raced after her. "Wait! Slow down! I'm too old for all this running!" Dipper followed.

Mabel descended the stairs of the Northwest Manor, bunching the skirt of her bright purple dress in one hand and hopping on one foot as she pulled up her shoe with the other.


End file.
